


Third Time's the Charm

by Orlissa



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Birth, F/M, Family, Fluff, Haylie/Ada/Ellie verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 13:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12936657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlissa/pseuds/Orlissa
Summary: As Skye woke up that morning, she just knew--call it mother's intuition--that today was the day: her third baby was to be born today. But even she was surprised how right she was.Waaaay overdue birthday gift for my lovely Stargazerdaisy. Love you, darling, happy (belated) birthday! :)





	Third Time's the Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stargazerdaisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazerdaisy/gifts).



> This piece was meant to be Stargazerdaisy’s birthday gift—so it was due four months ago. But it was a stubborn piece, not letting itself get finished, no matter how hard I tried… I’m sorry! In consolation, here it is now :) I love you, darling!

Ultimately, Skye thought, she had not woken to sunlight or general uncomfortableness that had been her constant companion these days, but to that slightly nagging feeling of being watched. Which would have been unnerving, had she not known, even in her sleep-addled state, with complete certainty who was watching her. She smiled into her pillow.

“You’re staring again.”

“Am I not allowed to do that?”

Her smile widening, she cracked an eye open, peering at her husband; it amazed her that, even after eight years together, Grant still looked at her like she was the most magnificent thing on the face of Earth—something that made her feel very lucky.

“Oh, well,” she said, fighting the urge to stick her tongue out at him as she closed her eye again, “I can let it slide just this once.”

She heard Grant let out a small chuckle, then felt the mattress dip as he leaned closer so he could place a small kiss on her lips. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she mumbled in reply, blinking her eyes open as he slid a hand under the covers.

“And how are you girls?” he asked, his palm settling on the curve of her belly; she let out a small, content sigh as the baby shifted inside of her.

He had brought up having another baby over a year ago now, and even though she had been reluctant at first, eventually she relented (okay, she didn’t need that much convincing), and now they were expecting their third child—their third daughter—any day now. She felt huge, she was aching, the heat wave that was hitting D.C. hard was just making things worse. Logically, she should have been feeling miserable, but she wasn’t—the thrill, the nervous excitement over this small, new life about to enter her world was pushing every negative feeling she might have had to the margins.

“Great,” she said, slipping her hand over his. Opening her eyes, she met his gaze and smiled contently. “It’s today.”

Grant, clearly slightly startled, frowned. “Today? Have you had any—?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why do you think it’s today?”

Skye shrugged. “I dunno. Mother’s intuition?” Officially, she had two more days to go until her due date, not that it meant anything—Haylie came almost a week early, Ada three days late—, and she really did have a feeling, some strong precognition that had hit her as she woke up that morning, that this baby was coming today.

One corner of his mouth twitching, Grant leaned to her once again and pressed a kiss against her forehead, his hand giving her belly a firm rub before he pulled it away. “Okay.”

“Just okay? You’re not gonna contest me?” she teased, pushing herself to her elbows as he threw off the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Skye,” he said, walking around the bed to her side, “your gut feeling has saved my life more than I can count. I’m not going to question it,”

She chuckled as she sat up in bed, “Good answer,” she said, then, with a little bit of help from him, stood up. “I knew there was a reason I married you,” she added, patting his face.

* * *

She turned out to be right, of course.

She felt the first contraction—barely a twinge, lasting only a couple of seconds—about an hour later, as the four (six, if you counted their senior dog and overactive puppy, the latter the courtesy of her dear, old dad) of them were having breakfast down in the kitchen. Six years ago she might have dismissed it as a random ache, but she’d been through this rodeo twice before, so she knew the signs and realized right away what was going on. The following two she had until they finished eating—not really stronger or longer than the first one, but definitely closer together than what she was used to at this stage—only confirmed that she was going into labor.

She waited to tell Grant until Haylie and Ada finished eating and ran to the living room to catch some morning cartoon. After the girls were out of the room, squealing and giggling, making a racket in their wake, she remained in her seat for a bit longer, one hand on her belly, and watched as Grant collected the dirty dishes from the table. Only when he turned towards the counter did she stand—it was a bit of a struggle—, stepped behind him and hugged him from behind, well, as best as she could. As if it was some kind of a reflex, as soon as he put the dishes down he took her hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a kiss against her skin. She smiled into his back.

“I told you she was coming today,” she said softly.

She felt him tense for a moment—she knew how he hated seeing her in pain and how worried labor and birth made him—, but then he let out a long breath, as if to calm himself, and the tension in his body lessened. Without letting go of her hand, he turned around to face her.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go now?” he asked, resting his free hand on her belly too. “I can call your father to watch the girls, get the car…” She silenced him with a simple shake of her head.

“There’s no need to rush,” she told him with a gentle smile to ease his anxiety. And there really wasn’t any need, she was sure—she had been in labor for sixteen hours with Haylie, fourteen with Ada, and she wasn’t expecting this baby to come much quicker, either. “And yes, I’m sure, but it’s just beginning, really—just a couple of weak, short contractions so far.”

He looked deep into her eyes for moment, as if to gauge if she was really telling the truth and wasn’t downplaying it, then nodded almost imperceptibly. “Okay,” he said, bending down to kiss her forehead. “If you’re sure. Just take it easy. And—”

“I’ll call Hartland and the birth center first, let them know we’ll be in later today,” she cut in, feeling like she knew what he was going to say. “And then I’ll go and sit with the girls. And I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Another pause and a searching look, and then he nodded again, this time surer. “Alright.” He squeezed her hand in a reassuring gesture, although Skye was sure that currently he was the more anxious one. “I’ll…” he looked around the kitchen “...clean up here. Get some stuff done. Then I’ll join you in the living room, okay?”

“Okay,” she echoed with a serene smile, then gently lifted herself to the tip of her toes, telling him she wanted a kiss. He met her halfway, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. When she pulled away as he kiss ended and looked up at him, he had a goofy little grin on his face.

“We’re having a baby,” he said softly, his gaze full of awe and adoration.

She flashed him a little, mischievous smile. “You say it like it was news.”

* * *

 

Skye called Dr. Hartland from her little home office—a generous name for that little hole of a room that housed her home server and, from time to time, Christmas decorations and the like—, and, thankfully, she could get the doctor on the phone right away. Hartland, who had been May’s ob/gyn at first, was the one who had delivered both Haylie and Ada—the former still back at the Playground, the latter already at the D.C. birth center she primarily worked at—, and although she was already past sixty, it was self-evident from both parties that she’d be the one to deliver Skye’s third baby as well.

Dr. Hartland was pleasant and no-nonsense on the phone, as always, a demeanor that Skye’d always found comforting. She told Hartland how she was feeling and how things were going—she’d had another contraction since her talk with Grant, this one slightly stronger than the first ones—, and the doctor agreed that there was no point in going to the center just yet, but made Skye promise to call if anything changed.

After hanging up, Skye remained in the office for a bit longer, leaning back in her chair and caressing her belly. It might have been strange from her part, but being in labor, or at least in the early phases of it, always filled her with a strange sense of serenity. Even when she was having Haylie, going into the unknown, she remained calm, having a nap and then sitting in the lounge of the base with her friends for hours before things got really intense. And then with Ada… she smiled to herself. Ada’s birth was kind of crazy, crazy enough that Grant still always let out an exasperated groan whenever it came up.

She was supposed to be on maternity leave, and she was also past her due date, but Trip was going into a high-risk flash-op that required IT support, and she just couldn’t stand the thought of her friend having to rely on some second-rate S.H.I.E.L.D. analyst. So she bugged Coulson until he, begrudgingly, allowed her to take part in the mission. After all it was completely safe, as she was to be in one of the control rooms in the Triskelion, behind a screen, while keeping contact through the comms. It wasn’t her fault that she went into labor right in the middle of the operation. Although she’d take partial responsibility for the fact that she refused to leave until Trip was safely on his way back, which took a couple of hours, meaning that she was already halfway dilated by the time they got to the birth center. In the end Trip had actually made it back to D.C. by the time she gave birth hours later.

She waited out another contraction in the office—they were definitely getting stronger, but still not past the “annoying” level—, then made her way to the living room.

The girls, as expected, were glued to the screen, watching some brightly animated show; Haylie was lying on the floor, absent-mindedly petting her puppy, Nana, who was sprawled out right next to her, while Ada was curled up on the couch, holding her stuffed rabbit close to her chest. Skye smiled at the sight.

“Do you ladies mind me joining you?” she asked from the doorway, to which girls only nodded in response, barely lifting their eyes from the TV. Smiling to herself, Skye walked over to the couch, and, keeping one hand under her bump to support it, sat down on the chaise part of the L-shaped couch, leaning back and stretching her legs in front of her. As soon as she was settled, Ada, wordlessly, crawled over to her and cuddled to her side. “Hi, baby,” she said, curling an arm around Ada’s small body and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What are we watching? Is it any good?”

Grinning, Ada looked up at her, then she started to recount in a hushed voice what had happened in the cartoon so far and what characters she liked and why, with her older sister frequently quipping in, in a much louder voice. Skye nodded along their explanation, but didn’t really process what they were saying; her mind was much more preoccupied with the thoughts of what the imminent arrival of the new baby would mean for the girls.

Haylie was really young, over a year younger than Ada was now, when her sister was born, and in the beginning, she had her fits about it—suddenly, there was a baby who was stealing the spotlight from her, and she had a hard time adjusting to that, but she got over it eventually. And ever since then the two girls had been exemplary sisters—quarrelling sometimes, like all siblings did, but always making up quickly afterwards—, putting Grant’s fears  that stemmed from his own childhood and relationship with his siblings to rest.

And then, right from the moment they’d told the girls that they’d be getting a baby sibling, they seemed to be really happy and excited about it—especially when they found out that the new baby would be a girl as well. So Skye hoped that even if they had some bumps in the road in the beginning, Haylie and Ada would not feel neglected or unwanted once the baby was there, and would quickly get used to her presence (and she had to give it to her father, the puppy he had gotten for Haylie’s birthday might just help with that).

Her daughters’ chitter about the cartoon died down after a couple of minutes, and from then on the three of them just watched the show in silence, although Skye wasn’t processing much of what she was seeing. It wasn’t the fault of the show—as far as morning cartoons went, it was pretty decent, with some actual plot; it was just her labor started to really pick up.

By the time the episode the girls were watching had ended and a new one started—so roughly fifteen minutes after Skye’d sat down on the couch—, she had already been through four more contractions, each being stronger and lasting longer than the last. By the time the first commercial break came along in the second episode, she was having a hard time breathing evenly during the contraction, and when the following one hit, just as the characters on the screen broke into a cheerful song about friendship, she even let out a low groan.

Ada stiffened right away, while Haylie quickly turned to look at her, a hint of fear in her wide, brown eyes. “Are you okay, mommy?” she asked, a second away from jumping up and running to her. Even Nana let out a small whine.

Skye closed her eyes and let out a long, steadying breath before answering. “Yes, of course, baby, don’t worry.” The contraction having passed, she smiled at her firstborn and pulled Ada just a little bit closer. “It’s just… your baby sister is getting a little impatient.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Letting go of Ada, Skye swung her legs off the chaise. “Mommy’s going out to the porch for a while, okay? I just need a bit of fresh air, don’t worry. You babies just stay here, and watch your cartoon, okay?” she told them in her most soothing voice, ruffling Ada’s hair a little bit as her tiny little girl looked up at her with wide eyes. Things were starting to get… intense, and pretty fast, and Skye didn’t want the girls to witness that.

Thankfully, Haylie and Ada didn’t press on the subject.

“Okay,” Haylie mumbled, nodding, then climbed onto the couch, settling beside her little sister, as if taking her mom’s place. She even put a thin arm around Ada’s shoulder as she whispered something into her ear, making Ada giggle and, seemingly, forget her previous scare, as the two girls turned their attention to the TV once again, Giving them one last smile, Skye waddled out of the room.

She barely made it to the back porch before the next contraction hit—what was it, three, four minutes of rest between the last two? She wasn’t sure, but her contractions were definitely getting closer than she would have liked.

This one was definitely starting to get on the strong side—she got through it leaning forward, resting her elbows on the porch railing, and taking deep, measured breaths. She didn’t move even when the contraction had passed, only let her head fall forward, laying her forehead on her hands, panting a little.

“Okay,” she mumbled to herself with a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she straightened up, placing both hands on the small of her back. “Definitely not ten plus hours this time.”

She remained standing through the next two contractions, walking up and down the porch with slow steps between them, then sat down on the one of the lounge chairs to get some rest.

Leaning back a little and getting comfortable—as much as she could—, Skye turned her gaze towards the end of their backyard and smiled. Their home was in a street right next to the river, and from their raised porch she could just see as the morning sun played on the water of the Potomac—she could even see the tip of the Triskelion if she craned her neck. Situated in an upscale—”coveted,” the ads often said—D.C. neighborhood, quiet and peaceful, yet comfortably close to everything, their house, with its big, airy rooms, the big backyard and the excellent view (even if the stairs creaked and the master bedroom’s door always got stuck) was a dream come true.

She still remembered that, back in the beginning, one of the first personal questions she had asked from Grant was that whether he had grown up in a house. It was a silly, irrelevant question, but she still wanted to know, maybe because living in a house had always been a great wish of hers; living in the orphanage and being passed from foster home to foster home, then being on the streets, just her against the world, living in a house symbolized the stability, the _home_ for her, what she had always been wishing for. And now having all of it—the house, the home, the love, the family, the promise that her daughters would never have to live through the same struggles that  she did—, it was more than what she had ever dared to ask for.

It was around the time she reached this point in her train of thought when the next contraction hit, and it was strong enough that she had to grit her teeth and close her eyes to get through it. She concentrated so much on her breathing, riding the wave of the contraction, lost in her own world, that she didn’t even hear the porch door open, and she only realized that Grant had joined her when she felt his hand on the small of her back, gently applying pressure—something he knew comforted her when in labor.

When the contraction ended and she opened her eyes, she found him kneeling next to her, a serious, almost worried look on his face.

“Still better than that time in Bangladesh,” she tried to joke with a weak smile on her face, but all the reaction she got from Grant was a deep, calming breath. “The girls?”

“Still glued to the screen, they’ll be okay for a couple minutes,” he said with a hint of a smilen, then simply asked, “How far apart are they?”

“I don’t know. Four minutes, maybe? I haven’t been exactly timing them.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then admitted, “But they’re definitely getting stronger.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, then, placing a small kiss on her forehead, he got to his feet. “I’m calling Hartland, telling her we’ll be there soon,” he said in a tone that implied that this was not up to debate.

Skye nodded, not even wanting to argue. “Can you—?”

“I’ll get the car ready,” he assured her, “and I’ll call your dad, tell him to come over.” They’d previously arranged it with Cal that when the time came, he’d come over the take care of the girls while Skye and Grant were at the birth center. As she saw it, it was a win-win situation: on the one hand, it made Cal feel needed, while it also meant that they had someone _dependable_ looking after Haylie and Ada (she was still a little pissed at Fitz for losing the girls in the Triskelion two weeks earlier), while, on the other hand, it kept Cal from trying to run the delivery room, driving her and the staff of the birth center mad in the process. “Will you be okay here while I get that done?”

Rubbing the lower part of her belly (the baby was pressing down something crazy), Skye nodded. “Actually, I think I’m going to take a bath.”  She had given birth to Ada in water, which was a great comfort to her then, and she also hoped that merging herself in a tubful of water would slow things down a little bit. The fact that, since it was approaching nine in the morning and the temperature was steadily rising, the bath would help her cool down a bit was just an added bonus.

“Alright,” Grant said after a moment of hesitation. One hand on her waist, the other holding her hand, he helped her stand up. “I’ll help you up the stairs, okay?”

She didn’t have the energy to object, and, honestly, she didn’t even want to; she was just grateful for having him there.

* * *

 

He not only helped her up the stairs and to the master bathroom—although she was sure she could have managed that by herself, but his concern was nice nonetheless—, but also started the water for her, while she sat on the toilet, panting through another contraction. By the time the tub filled with enough water, she peeled off her tank top and shorts, and, once again with Grant’s help, lowered herself into the water.

Not letting go of her hand, he brought it to his lips, and planted a kiss on the back of her hand. He was being even more affectionate with her than he usually was, which told Skye how anxious he really was. Trying to calm him a little bit, she gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand before he pulled it away.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he promised, then pushed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Try to relax until then, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied with a smile and only a hint of irony in her voice, something he must have caught, because one corner of his mouth twitched as he stood up to leave.

The door barely closed behind him when she started to feel the beginnings of the next contraction, which was strong enough that it had her let out a low moan. Once it ended, she took a few deep breaths and let her head fall back, while she caressed the hard curve of her belly.

“Okay, I get it,” she spoke after a moment, panting little, but her voice strong. “You’re getting impatient, want to get out… Believe me, I get it. It’s hot enough outside as it is, I can image how hot it must be inside. And yeah, I can’t wait to meet you too. Still, ugh…” she groaned as she leaned forward, feeling the next contraction coming, “Could you slow down just a little bit?”

The next few minutes answered her question: no, the baby was definitely not slowing down—even though the water had taken the edge of the pressure Skye was feeling, her labor only picked up the tempo after she’d gotten into the tub. Now she was getting barely any rest between contractions, which were lasting longer and coming stronger and stronger, making her almost cry out a couple of times.

Her waters broke maybe five minutes after Grant had gone—it was almost like a little snap, and then she felt the familiar gush, followed by the momentary lessening of pressure. “Great,” she mumbled to herself as she gripped the edge of the tub, trying to find a more comfortable position. “At least nothing is ruined this time…” (With Haylie, her waters broke all over Grant’s sweatpants; with Ada, on a S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued office chair; it was a tradition she was glad not to follow anymore.)

She got through two more teeth-gritting contraction before she started feeling it—pressure slowly building, a sense of urgency lurking in the background, her body tensing, getting ready. She wasn’t exactly ready to push yet, but she knew it was close.

That was the first time she felt a little scared the whole morning, because everything was just going so fast—she was sure her labor hadn’t even hit the two hour mark yet—, because she was alone in the bathroom, and because _it so wasn’t the plan—_ she was supposed to have more time, she was supposed to be at birth center, with her doctor right next to her. She was supposed to feel more prepared.

Still, she steeled herself and got through the next contraction, feeling the baby push down, and whimpering and gripping the edge of the tub and probably making it vibrate. She wasn’t sure. Suddenly she wasn’t sure of anything outside of her own body, beyond the powerful contraction of her womb.

Once the contraction had passed, and she could take a deep calming breath, her mind cleared a little. She was able to reorient herself a bit and evaluate her situation.

“Okay, Skye,” she told herself, breathing heavily, leaning back a little in the tub. “It’s not your first rodeo. You’ve done this before. You can do this.” She pushed her damp hair from her forehead. “Millions of women have been doing this for tens of thousands years. Of course you can do it.”

As expected, when the next contraction came, it brought on that almost-overwhelming need to push that Skye was so familiar with. So she listened to her body’s clues and pushed, taking short, measured breaths, riding the waves, feeling as the baby slowly journeyed down. She kept it up until the contraction lasted, then leaned back against the wall of the tub, gathering her strength. That was when the door finally opened and Grant returned.

“Okay, your father’s on his way, he’ll be here in ten minutes, the bags are in the car, and the center’s waiting for us,” he told her in a quick paced, tense tone, barely glancing at her direction in his nervous excitement as he collected a towel from the rack for her. “Come now,” he said, stepping to the tub to help her out “let’s—”

“No!” she snapped, “No, no, no, no…” she muttered, closing her eyes shut as she felt the next contraction coming. “I’m not giving birth in the car,” she added in a slightly wavering voice before letting out a low groan as she bore down, gripping the side of the tub.

To his credit, Grant remained calm and didn’t start asking stupid questions she wouldn’t have been able to answer anyway. Instead, she felt him move behind her and sit on the edge of the tub, his knee almost at her shoulder. He grabbed a washcloth, dipped it into the water, and first pressed it against the base of her neck, then started gently massaging her shoulders, while leaning forward and saying to her gently, “That’s alright, you’re doing great, I’m here…”

Once again, she kept pushing until the contraction wound down, then fell back, this time leaning against his leg. Swallowing first, she dipped her head back slightly and looked at him, whispering, “Thank you.” She wasn’t even sure what she was thanking him for; for being supportive, for being there now, for _always_ being there. In response, he leaned forward, swept a sweaty lock away from her forehead and pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

“Tell me what’s going on and what you need me to do.” She only heard a touch of worry in his voice.

Her shoulders falling forward, she let out a low groan. “My waters broke… oh… maybe ten minutes ago, I don’t know, and—” she winced. “I almost immediately felt I needed to push.” She pushed herself up a bit, trying to get into a somewhat more comfortable position, until she was basically kneeling in the tub. “And they’re close together…”

“Do you want me to call—”

“No!” she cut in; no, she didn’t want him to go anywhere, not even for a phone call—not that it would have mattered much at this point, anyway. “No, just… ow, ow, _ow…_ ” Her sentence was cut short as the next contraction came and the wave took her under, robbing her of her ability to do anything but push.

So push she did, giving it everything she still had in her, feeling the baby move down and stretch her, bringing on that all so familiar burning sensation that left her panting. Once the contraction ended and the pain subsided, she reached between her legs and felt the top of her daughter’s head peeking out. She let out a long sigh and dropped her head forward. “She’s almost… almost…” she murmured weakly.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she heard Grant’s comforting whisper, as his thumbs dug into her lower back, trying to ease the pressure. “Just tell me what you need me to do,” he repeated.

She merely nodded, signaling him that she’d heard him, then gritted her teeth and let out a low groan as another contraction seized her. Skye knew that her baby was about to emerge, and the knowledge that it was almost over and her baby was almost there in her arms filled her with excitement and gave her a surge of energy, but she also knew that this part was crucial—she had managed to give birth to both Haylie and Ada without a tear, and she really wanted to get through this labor without one too. So she tried to be careful, panting through the contraction and pushing as slowly as she could, as she felt baby stretch her to an almost impossible degree. She was aware of Grant murmuring soothing words into her ear as he alternated between massaging her shoulders and lower back, sometimes wiping her brow and neck with the wet washcloth, and she was grateful for it, but had absolutely no energy to to react to it in any way.

Three or four more contraction had passed—she was starting to lose track of them, especially since they were coming so close together now—, and the baby was barely moving forward, inching out slowly, and then, suddenly, she reached _that_ point—the point when the scale tipped, as if a dam was breaking. She pushed and the baby _moved_ , the widest part of her head passing through, and then, right away, she just felt this strange, gushing feeling as the whole little body just slipped from between her legs, bringing on an enormous sense of relief.

Acting on pure instinct, Skye reached down and caught the baby, raising her from the water and pulling her to her chest. It was almost like she’d been in a bubble up until then, which suddenly burst—everything that had been muted and distant until then became sharp and close once again as that tiny baby let out a soft, discontent cry.

“Hi, baby, it’s okay, everything’s okay,” Skye heard herself mumble as she, with trembling hands and crying and laughing at the same time, tried to hush the baby. She caressed that tiny back, her hand sliding down along  the baby’s arm until she could take that little hand into hers, marveling at her daughter’s perfect little fingers, seeing nothing but her. “Mommy’s here…”

“Here, take this…” Hearing Grant’s voice suddenly made her realize that he was still there with her. She turned towards him—he had tears in his eyes as well—and blinked, slightly unfocused, as she accepted the clean towel that he passed to her. Together, they cleaned the slowly quieting baby a bit and, mindful of the cord, wrapped her loosely in the towel. Once Skye had her secure against her chest again, she wrapped her free arm around Grant’s neck and pulled him down to her, until their foreheads touched.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispered, closing her eyes; the next moment she felt him press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Perfect.” He cupped her face in his hand. “And you’re amazing.”

Still completely overwhelmed, Skye let out a teary little chuckle, then returned his kiss, before turning back to her newborn daughter—Ellie, her Eleanor Hope—, trying to etch every little detail—the almost colorless wisps of hair on the top of her head, the big, dark eyes, blinking up at her, the button nose, the bow shaped lips—into her memory.

Turning towards Grant, she was just about to say something overly sentimental again—maybe point out that Ellie had inherited her father’s nose or that how she looked around with wonder written on her feature, she wasn’t sure—, but before she could have opened her mouth, they heard a noise from downstairs—the front door opening, a dog barking excitedly, the girls shrieking in greeting. Her eyes opening wide, Skye stilled.

Grant blinked, drew a long breath through his nose and said, with a calmness not matching the situation, “I think your father’s here.”

Biting into her lip, Skye looked into his eyes, then, relishing in the absolute absurdity of the situation, she let out a shaky laugh. “This’ll be fun to explain.”

 


End file.
